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CHAPTER 8
System #2
Cold.
Numb.
Tired.
Sixteen-year-old Luke Doggett stumbled in the darkness, not saying a word to Mr. Follmer or Will. Eyes lowered to the walk to the front door, he could not focus his thoughts on any one thing--just the vague, dreary feeling that clouded around him.
*Why?!* something indignantly roared inside him. *Why did I have to see that?! . . . What in the world was that for?*
"Where've you been?"
That was Mr. Follmer.
Without raising his eyes, Luke responded: "Out."
"Out where?"
"Out 'n about."
"Luke," Mr. Follmer said firmly. He stepped in front, blocking Luke's path. "What happened?"
Something--something Luke couldn't quite put his finger on--made Luke angry, and he glowered at Follmer. "Leave it alone," he warned. For a split second, their eyes met, before Luke turned away, repeating, "Leave it alone."
He plodded around Follmer, and caught Mrs. Follmer, peering nervously at him through the miniblinds.
*Let her! Long as she leaves me alone . . .*
As he approached the door, Mrs. Follmer disappeared as she rushed to open it for him.
"Luke," she said.
*She knows!*
Where'd that thought come from?
*She knows! She understands!*
Never mind that . . .
"Mrs. Follmer."
He brushed past her, and saw his little sister there, those bright blue eyes briefly diminishing his darkness. Her lower lip was trembling with anxiety . . .
*Never could resist her.*
He kneeled to her and broke into a sad smile. "Hiya, Mattie. What've you been up to?"
"Where've you been?!" she wailed, wasting no time to leap up and throw her skinny arms around his neck.
"Nowhere, Mattie. I keep telling myself I was nowhere," he mumbled.
"Luke, can I talk to you for a moment?" Mrs. Follmer asked softly.
*She knows . . . Talk to her, she knows.*
There's that thought again.
He let Mattie go.
"Sure," he replied, and followed Mrs. Follmer into the kitchen.
"Something--something's happening. Something's happened to you, to me, to everything," she let out in an emotional whisper. "Something's off, I can't explain it . . ."
*Yeah, something's off. She's never talked to me like this before . . . She knows. There's something going on, and she knows . . .*
"How do you know?" Luke asked her.
"I feel it . . . I look at different things--different people--and they're different. Changed. I looked at Mattie only a couple minutes ago, and she was so many different people at different ages . . . Ah!" she cried. "I can't explain it. Well, I blinked, and she was Mattie again. And now, when I look at you, I see--AH!"
She fell back, trembling violently.
*Help her!*
Luke rushed to her. "What is it? What do you see?"
"I see . . . No, you won't want to talk to me if I tell you."
"Tell me!" he hissed--his intensity surprised him.
"Ah! You're John! You're him! His face, his age . . . the shot in the head!" she shrieked and pointed to Luke's forehead.
A ghostly shiver ran up Luke's spine.
"Tell me," he said urgently, "Mrs. Follmer, tell me . . . just how you know about that!"
"I just see it! I can't help it! I see it! But, here comes Brad." She swallowed whatever else was welling-up inside her as Brad and Will came in.
"What's going on, here?!" Brad came into the kitchen. "Monica . . . I heard your screaming . . ."
"I'm fine," she said, desperately trying to keep her emotions out of her voice. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just a little . . . distraught. I'll be fine." She blinked several times, as though clearing her vision. "Uh . . . Anybody want some dinner? I'm afraid I've only got leftovers . . ."
"Sure," Brad said cautiously. "I think we all could use a good meal, right now. That sound good to you, Will, Mattie? Luke?"
"Sure," Will said softly, as he joined the group in the kitchen. Mattie slowly crept into the kitchen as well, and peered out from behind Will.
Mrs. Follmer cleared her throat. "Luke?"
"No thanks. I'm not very hungry."
And with that, he turned away and went to the air mattress set up in the living room. Wearily, he sank down into the mattress with the blankets piled on top of him. He closed his eyes, wanting to sleep though he knew he wouldn't that night, when he had the distinct feeling of being watched. He opened one eye to see who it was.
Mattie. She'd followed him, obviously.
"Aren't you gonna get any dinner, Mattie?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Oh."
"Why'd Mrs. Follmer say you were John? Who's John? Did she mean Daddy?" she pummeled him with questions.
"If you must know, then, yes, she did mean Dad." The topic disturbed Luke. "Go get some dinner. Goodnight."
"What happened to Daddy?"
Her question rattled him even more.
"Go get some dinner, Mattie. Goodnight."
She wouldn't let go. "What happened to Daddy?"
"Matalyn Leigh!" he snapped, using her full name for emphasis. "Go get your dinner! Goodnight!"
And with that, Luke turned over. Angrily, Mattie threw herself back to her place on the couch, indignant that her big brother, the object of all her worship, had given her such treatment.
Had he not turned his back on her, Mattie might have noticed the hot tear running down Luke's cheek.
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Please review, yadda, yadda, yadda, thank you. ;)
CHAPTER 8
System #2
Cold.
Numb.
Tired.
Sixteen-year-old Luke Doggett stumbled in the darkness, not saying a word to Mr. Follmer or Will. Eyes lowered to the walk to the front door, he could not focus his thoughts on any one thing--just the vague, dreary feeling that clouded around him.
*Why?!* something indignantly roared inside him. *Why did I have to see that?! . . . What in the world was that for?*
"Where've you been?"
That was Mr. Follmer.
Without raising his eyes, Luke responded: "Out."
"Out where?"
"Out 'n about."
"Luke," Mr. Follmer said firmly. He stepped in front, blocking Luke's path. "What happened?"
Something--something Luke couldn't quite put his finger on--made Luke angry, and he glowered at Follmer. "Leave it alone," he warned. For a split second, their eyes met, before Luke turned away, repeating, "Leave it alone."
He plodded around Follmer, and caught Mrs. Follmer, peering nervously at him through the miniblinds.
*Let her! Long as she leaves me alone . . .*
As he approached the door, Mrs. Follmer disappeared as she rushed to open it for him.
"Luke," she said.
*She knows!*
Where'd that thought come from?
*She knows! She understands!*
Never mind that . . .
"Mrs. Follmer."
He brushed past her, and saw his little sister there, those bright blue eyes briefly diminishing his darkness. Her lower lip was trembling with anxiety . . .
*Never could resist her.*
He kneeled to her and broke into a sad smile. "Hiya, Mattie. What've you been up to?"
"Where've you been?!" she wailed, wasting no time to leap up and throw her skinny arms around his neck.
"Nowhere, Mattie. I keep telling myself I was nowhere," he mumbled.
"Luke, can I talk to you for a moment?" Mrs. Follmer asked softly.
*She knows . . . Talk to her, she knows.*
There's that thought again.
He let Mattie go.
"Sure," he replied, and followed Mrs. Follmer into the kitchen.
"Something--something's happening. Something's happened to you, to me, to everything," she let out in an emotional whisper. "Something's off, I can't explain it . . ."
*Yeah, something's off. She's never talked to me like this before . . . She knows. There's something going on, and she knows . . .*
"How do you know?" Luke asked her.
"I feel it . . . I look at different things--different people--and they're different. Changed. I looked at Mattie only a couple minutes ago, and she was so many different people at different ages . . . Ah!" she cried. "I can't explain it. Well, I blinked, and she was Mattie again. And now, when I look at you, I see--AH!"
She fell back, trembling violently.
*Help her!*
Luke rushed to her. "What is it? What do you see?"
"I see . . . No, you won't want to talk to me if I tell you."
"Tell me!" he hissed--his intensity surprised him.
"Ah! You're John! You're him! His face, his age . . . the shot in the head!" she shrieked and pointed to Luke's forehead.
A ghostly shiver ran up Luke's spine.
"Tell me," he said urgently, "Mrs. Follmer, tell me . . . just how you know about that!"
"I just see it! I can't help it! I see it! But, here comes Brad." She swallowed whatever else was welling-up inside her as Brad and Will came in.
"What's going on, here?!" Brad came into the kitchen. "Monica . . . I heard your screaming . . ."
"I'm fine," she said, desperately trying to keep her emotions out of her voice. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just a little . . . distraught. I'll be fine." She blinked several times, as though clearing her vision. "Uh . . . Anybody want some dinner? I'm afraid I've only got leftovers . . ."
"Sure," Brad said cautiously. "I think we all could use a good meal, right now. That sound good to you, Will, Mattie? Luke?"
"Sure," Will said softly, as he joined the group in the kitchen. Mattie slowly crept into the kitchen as well, and peered out from behind Will.
Mrs. Follmer cleared her throat. "Luke?"
"No thanks. I'm not very hungry."
And with that, he turned away and went to the air mattress set up in the living room. Wearily, he sank down into the mattress with the blankets piled on top of him. He closed his eyes, wanting to sleep though he knew he wouldn't that night, when he had the distinct feeling of being watched. He opened one eye to see who it was.
Mattie. She'd followed him, obviously.
"Aren't you gonna get any dinner, Mattie?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Oh."
"Why'd Mrs. Follmer say you were John? Who's John? Did she mean Daddy?" she pummeled him with questions.
"If you must know, then, yes, she did mean Dad." The topic disturbed Luke. "Go get some dinner. Goodnight."
"What happened to Daddy?"
Her question rattled him even more.
"Go get some dinner, Mattie. Goodnight."
She wouldn't let go. "What happened to Daddy?"
"Matalyn Leigh!" he snapped, using her full name for emphasis. "Go get your dinner! Goodnight!"
And with that, Luke turned over. Angrily, Mattie threw herself back to her place on the couch, indignant that her big brother, the object of all her worship, had given her such treatment.
Had he not turned his back on her, Mattie might have noticed the hot tear running down Luke's cheek.
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Please review, yadda, yadda, yadda, thank you. ;)
